There’s something about cutting into the skin of a freshly cooked custard with the side of a spoon, watching the rush of creamy, yellow lava spill out, tasting of a rich eggy, vanilla cream that makes my knees wobble. It is a decidedly unhealthy obsession that makes no discrimination. Crème brulee, crème anglaise, tart, quiche, ice cream, even powdered custard, I love it all. While most see custard as a supporting act, I’ve always considered it one of the greats. So, today I’m sharing my old-school version, served with equally old-school baked apples. Halved apples baked in apple juice and brown sugar until soft and wrinkled, their middles caving just enough to hold a generous puddle of custard. Simple, familiar, and completely delicious.